Do You Dare to Parody the HG?
by nevergone4ever
Summary: One-shots of crazy Hunger Games parodies. Well, the Capitol won't know what hit them as they watch little Snow, Tigris the Tiger, Avox Idol, fantastically odd breeds of muttations, and the secret behind the uncontrollable illness in District Six.
1. Avox Idol

**A/N: Welcome to my story of stupid one-shots! HERE WE GO :D**

"Welcome, Panem!" I fling my arm out wide. "Welcome to the hottest new television show, rated behind ONLY the Hunger Games!"

"FINNICK!" a girl with bubblegum pink hair and a bikini top screeches, reaching for my legs. I gently untangle myself and flash her a winning smile.

"Panem… are YOU ready to watch AVOX IDOL?!"

"Yeaaaaaahhhhh!" screams every girl, lady, woman, chick, female, gal, babe, and schoolgirl in the humongous crowd screamed. One was different, though- a lady who used to represent Twelve before it blew up, smashing everything and everybody in it to little tiny smithereens. I think her name was Emmeline or something idiotic like that. Anyways, Emmeline screeched, "GO HOME OR I'LL MAKE ANOTHER PUN ABOUT YOUR NAME!"

Yes, Emmeline is furious that I have such a cool last name. It's ODAIR. So you can scream, "ODAIR YOU ARE!" or even "IN COOKING CLASS, REMEMBER TO ADD FINNICK-ER! BWAHAHAHAAAAAA!"

She, on the other hand, is named Emmeline PLUNK. So I can say tiredly, "I was so PLUNK last night." Or perhaps, more excitedly, "I WEAR BLACK TO I MUST BE PLUNK!" Oh, the FUN Emmeline and I have together!

"Finnick," whispers a tiny person on top of my shoulder. It's, of course, President Snow. As his name says, he is tiny as a droplet of snow. So I take him anywhere I go, on my shoulder, and he gets great rays there. Occasionally I fee him a raspberry seed, which he barfs up, or sometimes a little puny pepperoni. President Snow's very particular. He has to have double letters in every food he eats. 'Noodle' or 'pizza' or 'jelly' or 'ice creamm' would make it, whereas 'broccoli' would not. Oh, I know that 'broccoli' ahs double letters. But I refuse to touch green, cold things.

"FINNICK, DOG!" shrieks little Snow at the top of his lungs.

I clear my throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, a moment. Please." I turn around and hold my hand to my shoulder. Little Snow hops into it.

"Dude, you KNOW I can't stand the spotlight, man! Dog, I'd be ULTIMATELY, supremely, AMAZED if you left me backstage, dude."

"Shut up, little Snow," I whisper harshly and plop him back onto my shoulder. I hear a tiny hiss from him, as my skin is naturally very hot, just like my appearance.

"As I was SAYING, before I was so RUDELY interrupted," I shout into my microphone. "WELCOME TO AVOX IDOL!"

The room is quiet, with the exception of one person gagging on some tasty ice creamm. I'm just so gifted, I can tell what exactly people are choking upon. I think-

"FINNICK, MAN, STOP DOZIN' OFF!" shrieks little Snow.

I nod. "Avox…. Idol…" I clap, and the people in the crowd simultaneously go,

"OOOOOHHHHHHH. WE MUST CLAP NOW," and they begin. Well, all except for the ice creamm choking person.

I sit at my spot between the two drama queens known as the other judges, Johanna Mason and Enobaria Killing-Is-So-Subtly-Magical-You-Are-So-Stupid. Or rather, Enobaria KISSMYASS. But Enobaria hates the word KISS, so it's reduced down to KILLKILLKILL. Don't ask me what that stands for. Apparently in December she's having it legally changed to that, but for now, we have to call her Enobaria KILLKILLKILL, no questions asked.

"Welcome, like Finnick said TWELVE THOUSAND TIMES," screams Enobaria KILLKILLKILL. "And now, for our first contestant, Avox # 1237!"

Avox #1237 looks very scared. She is dressed in a stunning blue jean dress with little pink daisies all over. She must be attempting to look younger. Well, it failed.

Avox # 1237 very dramatically pukes all over the floor before clearing her throat.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHH UAAAAAAAA QUAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOO. RAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHH UAAAAAAAA QUEAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOO!" she finishes, puking once more stylishly.

"I give you a NINE POINT SEVEN! Wonderful, just WONDERFUL!" I scream.

"I give you a ZERO BECAUSE IT STUNK!" shrieks Enobaria KILLKILLKILL.

"Negative SEVEN," screeches Johanna. She peers at Enobaria KILLKILLKILL. "HAH, Enobaria KILLKILLKILL. I won!"

"Hey, baby," whistles little Snow from my shoulder. "If you're a bird, I'M a bird. Ten!"

Avox # 1237 looks very disappointed and vomits for the third time before exiting, her head down. Obviously she didn't hear little Snow.

Little Snow swears and plunks down on my shoulder, clearly sad. "Why are you sad, my friend?" I ask him.

"Enobaria. She's-" little Snow begins.

"DID I JUST HEAR 'ENOBARIA' WITH NO 'KILLKILLKILL' AT THE END?" screams Enobaria KILLKILLKILL.

Little Snow frantically shakes his head. "No, no! Honest!" he squeaks.

"To you it's KISSMYASS."

"Whatever you say, KISSM- Wait, I thought you hated the word KISS. You just defied your own rule!" little Snow is triumphant. Enobaria KILLKILLKILL is outraged.

"You dare defy me?" she screams.

I turn to the nearest camera. "Looks like those SNOWY WHITES will be upon LITTLE SNOW before you can say 'KILLKILLKILL!" I remark brazenly.

Enobaria bares her teeth- this is it!- when she stops suddenly and turns to me.

"Finnick," she says briskly.

"Yes, Enobaria KILLKILLKILL?" I ask sweetly.

"You just thought my name. Without the KILLKILLKILL."

I gulp. Within ten seconds, Enobaria KILLKILLKILL chomps off my head. I can hear from inside her belly, and she announces to the camera, "That's what happens when you ODAIR message with Enobaria KILLKILLKILL."

**A/N: Hrm… yeah… I guess. Other chapters will be different stupid one-shots. REVIEW. ;)**


	2. The Chicken Games

"We could do it, you know."

"What do you mean?" I ask Gale, my eyes wide. "Are you saying…."

"Live in the woods."

"But what about our chickens?" I cry. "Their Plucking is today! If Preen gets plucked from that big Plucking bowl, she'll have to-"

"I have chickens too, OK, Katniss?" Gale says sharply. His eyebrows furrow, and I can tell that he knows he was too harsh. His tone becomes softer. "I'm worried as well. That's why I'm saying, we could just run away and leave this all behind."

"No," I tell him, my eyes narrowing into slits.

Gale gazes out over the lush green valley again. "We'll be lucky if they get deep-fried," he says with a final tone.

I shake my head. "Our siblings are weak. More likely to be barbecued, Gale."

"We can only hope that they get honey-glazed. Probably the easy way to go."

"I'd rather be peppered. Or baked."

"Wouldn't we all?" Gale replies, his eyes turning soft and mushy, the way he always does before talking about his best chicken. "You know, Clucky did the funniest thing the other day-"

"He brought you a pepper from the garden? I heard that story."

"No, you dolt." Gale looks slightly offended I suggested a story of a pepper. "He picked his millets up in his beak, strutted around like he ruled that coop, and even stopped to _nip_ at another chicken. Katniss, can you believe that? He NIPPED!"

"NIPPED?!" I yelp, my eyes growing huge. "Does that mean what I think it means?"

"Yes," Gale says slowly, as if he is tasting the very word on his tongue. "It means that my dear, sweet, beloved Clucky… has hit _puberty_."

As soon as he says that we gaze into each other's eyes and immediately go, "EW! COOTIES!"

"But seriously," I say, once we're over the terror of the puberty cooties. "What did that have to do with the Plucking?"

"Plucking, clucking, pluck, cluck, plucky, CLUCKY," Gale says, like it's obvious. "I heard the rhyme and it reminded me of my ribbon dancer days."

We both shudder. Those were dark days. I remember one certain image extremely clearly- Gale spinning like a top, eyes alit with a certain fire, mouth open with glee, red and blue ribbons twirling merrily. Those were back in the days that he had to dance for perverted elderlies who claimed it reminded them of childhood.

Then he saved up enough and bought a dozen eggs- nothing much, just enough to feed our two families. But something was wrong with these eggs. One day into the refrigerator, they all cracked and out came wet, brown little birds. Eventually they porked out on grass and turned buttery yellow and soft. We butchered two before we learned they grew to gargantuan sizes. Therefore I named my two birds after the two family members I craved the most- a mother chick, which I named Momma C.- short for Momma Chicky, and a sister chick- Preen.

"WAIT, WAIT, WAIT." I held up a hand and Gale raised an eyebrow. "Gale, what does that have to do with ribbon dancing?"

He sheepishly held up a scrap of blue satin. "I felt it in my pocket and said so."

"Ah," I said.

We then head up to District Twelve, the chicken district, and get ready for the Plucking.


End file.
